


There's Catastrophe In Everything I'm Touching

by themrys



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Gen, Hurt Dean Winchester, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-02-05
Packaged: 2018-03-08 13:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3210719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themrys/pseuds/themrys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean just wants the mark gone, and he'll do anything to make that happen. (coda to s10e10 The Hunter Games)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Major self-harm warning here. A whole lotta hurt!Dean. 
> 
> Title from The Horror of Our Love by Ludo.

He tries to zone out, listening to some old records in his room and letting the music pull him into a slow lull, but it doesn't help. He doesn't feel anything, he thinks. No fondness for the old tunes, no longing when he looks at the picture of his mother.  
  
All Dean can feel is the need to grab one of the guns off the wall or find a hammer or a even a fucking paper weight for all he cares and smash it into the next living thing he sees that isn't Sammy or Cas ( _God please don't let it be Sammy or Cas_ ). The need to destroy makes Dean panic and he wants to laugh at that. He can't feel happiness at the things he loves but he can freak out? Great.  
  
The Mark itches -it _burns_ , it's like fire, it's telling him to slaughter- and Dean resists the urge to scratch at it. It won't help, only intensify the sick impulse to fucking do something about it. He refuses to- to murder, not again. He won't do it again, even if he has to kill himself to stop it from happening. The Mark pulses in twisted pleasure at the thought. Dean feels like he might puke, his hand reaching out to clamp over it and put it out of sight.  
  
God, it burns.  
  
That's all Dean can think about. It burns, it fucking hurts, this goddamn mark is trying to melt his skin off. He wants to cry. It pulses again and Dean tries not to cry but he can hear it whispering to him. It's taunting him, telling him everything will be _okay_ , you just need to dispose of someone and it'll all be better. The Mark throbs and it almost feels like there's something crawling around under his skin.  
  
Dean shoots up, making a dash to the bathroom, just barely making it to the toilet before he tries to cough up the little food he managed to choke down. His eyes sting, his arm hurts, and he just wants to not feel anything ever again. No pain, no happiness, no nothing. Dean swears he can hear the mark laughing, as if telling Dean that he'll never get what he wants. He stands on shaky legs, using the sink counter to help pull him up and almost regrets doing so. Standing up puts him in front of the mirror, forces him to look at himself and think about the abomination he's become. He so, so badly wants to cry and he just lets go. Tears drip down his face but he refuses to acknowledge them.   
  
This mark is driving him insane and getting rid of it isn't easy and nothing's even showing up on how to freaking do that and he's worrying Sam and Cas and he can't breathe, _he can't breathe_. Dean can't breathe and he can only watch as his eyes in the mirror turn black but they can't be doing that, he was cured, Sammy cured him. Right?  
  
The voices laugh at him and all Dean feels is anger. Anger at himself, at this stupid mark, at Cain, at fucking anyone he can be angry at. He's still scared (so, so scared) but now he's angry and the mark is yelling at him and his breathing won't fucking slow and the walls are caving down around him. There's so much noise and he just wants to breathe, wants to get rid of this mark. Dean sobs and clenches his hands into fists, needs to do something, anything and he hears a distant shatter as shards of glass rain down into the sink.  
  
The light reflects off a particularly big piece of the broken mirror and he grasps at it, not registering his bloody knuckles or the cuts he had to have just given himself. Dean just thinks, _this is sharp and it can make me bleed, it can get rid of the mark_. He tightens his hold on it and blood runs down his hand and onto his wrist but he doesn't pay attention to it. Dean wishes he had a machete or, hell, even a knife from the kitchen, but he supposes the glass will do for now. The mark burns, burns, burns and Dean slashes and it hurts but it's a good hurt. It's a human hurt, not the dull monstrous pain of the mark.  
  
He cuts at his arm, digs the blade into the outline of the mark and cries. He thinks he can hear what sounds like someone banging on the door and jiggling the door handle, but it's faint and he doesn't even remember locking the door. He can't stop crying or digging. Dean just wants it to stop. Please let it stop, please, please, _please!_  
  
"Dean!" Sam. That's Sam. Sam's okay, Dean hasn't hurt him. Dean lets out a wounded noise as Sam tears the glass from his hands. Dean turns, reaches out desperately for it and when he can't get it, he just goes for another piece still lying in the sink. Sam yanks this one away too and before Dean can register what's happening Sam's pulled him up and out of the bathroom, towards Sam's room. Dean thinks he sees Cas, thinks he hears the angel gasp and his brother say his name but he's not sure. He just knows the world is fading and the last thing he sees before everything turns to a blissful, black sky is the red blur of something dripping on the floor.  
  
 _Oh_ , he thinks, _is that me?_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Dean angst, as usual. Mentions of self-harm and the boys are patching up Dean but it isn't too detailed. The next ch will be the last of this.

Sam patches up his brother with shaking hands, having to stop every minute or so to tell himself to breathe. _It's okay, Sam,_ he says. _It's okay._  Cas and him can fix this, can fix Dean. He lets a few tears slip out and tells himself that those words don't taste like a bitter lie on his tongue. Sam barely registers Cas's help, only giving a hint of a nod in the angel's direction. And fuck if that isn't another mess, they still need to find Cas's grace.

One issue at a time. Sam removes tiny glass shards that had snapped off in his brother's skin and swallows down the bile that threatens to come up. It's not at the wound, god Sam's seen worse, but at the implication of what Dean was trying to do. Fuck, he would've succeeded had he not smashed the mirror and alerted Sam and Cas.

While Sam focuses on the cuts, trying to stench the flow of the blood and keep Dean intact, Cas cleans up Dean's palm and knuckles. He doubts Dean even realized he gave himself the smaller cuts.

"Sam?" Cas's voice slices through his thoughts. When Sam turns his head a little bit to look at him, Cas seems to be awaiting an answer. To what, Sam isn't sure. "Are you okay?"

God, Cas. Of course the angel would be the one to see Sam patching up his bleeding unconscious brother and think to ask Sam how he's feeling.

"No. Fuck, no," Sam takes a deep breath, looking away from Cas and back at Dean's arm. "How could I be?"

"Sam, it's okay. We can fix this. We'll figure out how." Cas tries to reassure and Sam chokes on a wet laugh.

"Sure, Cas."

They go back to stitching up Dean in silence, the only noise they heard were their unsteady breaths and Sam's occasional sniffle. He was attempting to push his emotions down. He doesn't need to deal with them right now, not when Dean's suicidal and obviously willing to do anything destructive to ditch the mark. Sam doesn't even want to think about it, about how Dean tired to-.. How he tried-.. Goddamnit, Sam can't even finish the phrase. Finishing it makes it real, makes it clear that if Sam and Cas aren't gonna kill Dean, then Dean'll do the job himself.

Sam's finished wrapping Dean's arm but can't force himself to move far away. He takes a halted, half-step backwards and immediately feels like he's lost his brother. He tries not to make it obvious that he wants to inch closer and closer until he has Dean in a bear hug and won't let go for eternity.

Cas doesn't say anything else and Sam is glad, yet wishes Cas would say something at the same time. The quiet is comforting yet deafening at this moment. It lets them all think and try to deal with the situation, but it forces them to think about nothing except for Dean's issues. Cas makes his way out of the room, nodding at Sam in a gesture to say he won't be gone long. When he returns he brings with him a bottle of whiskey from the kitchen as well as more clean towels and gauze.

Sam feels like he hasn't had a drink in forever and while he knows it'll only make him feel worse, he takes a swig from the bottle anyways. Sometime between Cas leaving and coming back Sam found the nerve to softly settle himself on his bed next to Dean. Cas takes a seat on the other side of Dean and together they're both encasing the hunter with what Sam hopes is safety and comfort.

Through the night they check on Dean's self-inflicted injuries and switch out the gauze until Cas forces Sam to sleep. Surprisingly, Sam doesn't protest and falls into a much needed doze on the bed next to his brother. Cas keeps vigil over the boys the rest of the night and into morning. He does not having the heart to wake them until they're ready to wake themselves.

Cas places a gentle hand on Dean's forehead, willing his borrowed grace to do something useful. Cas'll be grateful even if it's just healing the smallest cuts on Dean's hand. He is not looking forward to the time when the brothers wake and they're forced to face the truth. Dean was getting worse and they need to do something about it.


End file.
